Nodding his grey head, Joseph refilled her teacup. “I see you reading the good book, Miss Claire, and I’ve seen you talking to God. You’re doing what’s best for you – only God can make the hurting heal. I said the same for the boss and Miss Naomi when their parents died. But they didn’t talk to God, and their healing took longer – much longer. For the boss, maybe not even…” Joseph tailed off, discreetly.
Looking into his wise eyes, Claire said, almost pleadingly, “I do rely on God, Joseph, but…” Claire’s voice cracked. “But now I’ve failed Him and He seems so far away.”
Taking her empty cup and placing it on the tray, Joseph answered firmly. “Miss Claire, God is God. He doesn’t move away from you. Talk to Him, and He always hears. Impunzi is a good place to heal, I promise you.”
Joseph stood and walked towards the door, but turned before he reached it. “You will be okay, Miss Claire,” he promised. “It’s just, sometimes things happen that we can’t understand. Only God can give us peace inside, and heal all the ugly wounds. If He can heal my homeland, He can heal your heart.”
Claire could thank Joseph for his kindness only mutely, and watched him walk out into the sunshine. Then, automatically, she ate the biscuits he’d left in front of her, and finished the tea. Still feeling drained and tired, she tried to read her book until lunchtime, with little success. She was still in the same chair when Joseph reappeared with a lunch of mild mutton curry hours later – but, surprisingly, she ate it all. Her inner numbness was obviously not affecting her appetite. Feeling sleepy afterwards, she took two aspirin and curled up under her covers, hoping that when she woke up the pounding in her head would have gone.
Claire was grateful, from that moment on, for Naomi’s wedding frenzy. She had returned from Bulawayo two days earlier than Tony, with good news: his mother was making real progress to recovery, and would even, they hoped, be able to come to Impunzi for the wedding. As though this was the signal she’d needed, Naomi had gone into organizational overdrive. Claire welcomed the distraction as though it were a lifeline, trying to fill every waking moment and praying that she would be able to avoid Seth. Immersed as she was, she couldn’t help but be caught up in her friend’s excitement: although the events for the day would be simple, no expense was being spared. Between Seth and Tony, Naomi’s every desire was being fulfilled. Seth, for his part, seemed to keep himself busy and away from Claire. Most evenings, he was not even home for supper. Naomi mentioned that he was helping Simon to build new bomas, but had been surprised he’d chosen to fit it in around their own preparations. Claire was not surprised; she was simply glad she didn’t have to deal with his presence. Now and then, when Claire caught a glimpse of him, her heart raced and her breathing became erratic. Seth looked, at all of these times, completely impassive.
With two days to go before the wedding, the ranch was buzzing with caterers and ranch hands. Trucks came and went, delivering tables and chairs. Naomi herself was a ball of nerves, too distracted by her pending nuptials to notice much about what was going on with Claire. Claire, in turn, was exhausting herself trying not to think about Seth, and how she felt she had… transgressed. There was no other word for it. She was staying up too late, to stop herself from dreaming, and spending all her waking energy helping Naomi and Tony to prepare the ranch. Claire only realised she must be overdoing things when even Naomi, in the midst of her happy distraction, sat her down with concern in her eyes.
“Claire, you look tired out! You should take more care of yourself,” Naomi told her friend, her hand on Claire’s arm. Claire blinked rapidly, turning away from Naomi, trying to stem the tears that were never far from her eyes.
“I’m fine, Naomi,” she insisted.
Watching her intently, Naomi probed, “Look, Claire, I might be preoccupied, but I’m not blind! Both you and Seth have been acting weirdly since the game reserve trip. Come on; I care about you – both of you. What’s up?”
Claire forced herself to laugh lightly, willing herself not to cry instead. This was Naomi’s special time. “I’m fine, honestly, you worrier! Just a bit tired. I’ve been working too late into the evenings, I guess.”
Naomi was still looking at her doubtfully, and Claire heaved a sigh of relief as some ranch workers called her come and check if the tables were placed where she wanted them. As she dashed away, the worried bride-to-be brushed off Claire’s protests.
“Just go to bed,” Naomi insisted. “Remember, you can’t be ill for the wedding,” she added with a grin. “It’d ruin all your hard work!”
Naomi had flitted away to make a decision about the tables and, reluctantly, Claire had tried to sleep. She ached all over, and couldn’t eat a bite of the dinner Joseph brought. After all this, Claire thought, am I really going to spoil Naomi’s day by being unwell? She couldn’t – wouldn’t – be ill. Her friendship with Naomi was the only good thing she felt she would take from Impunzi now, and she couldn’t bear the thought of letting her friend down on the most important day of Naomi’s life. And, apart from anything else, she couldn’t face the thought she might need to be looked after: with Naomi so needed elsewhere, the prospect of Seth as her nurse make Claire’s stomach drop. Determinedly, she lay down and closed her eyes.
But the next day, the morning before the wedding, Claire woke up still with a nauseous feeling in her stomach, and with a concentrated pain behind her eyes. As she took her first sip of tea and tried to stand up, she had to stagger to the bathroom to be violently sick. Bathing her face and brushing her teeth furiously, Claire resolved to see the doctor in Hwange when she and Naomi went to collect the wedding dress and bridesmaids’ dresses – she wouldn’t miss the trip, and she couldn’t worry Naomi with how she was feeling. Before they left the house, she quietly called the doctors’ and made an appointment. If it was a stomach bug or something, she could just take an antiemetic and be fine, Claire convinced herself; if the pain in her head was to blame, she’d just have more aspirin. Either way, she would cope.
Claire’s brief absence in town had hardly been noticed, although Claire had felt guilty for taking it. Naomi’s emotions were so close to the surface that Claire wished she could take better care of her friend: she seemed to be floating on a cloud during most of their time in town, and the wedding dress had looked astonishing. As Naomi’d tried it on, Claire had gazed at her in awe: she was a vision of loveliness. This time together felt poignant; Claire knew it was all coming to an end, and sooner than she’d thought. Very soon indeed, she wouldn’t see Naomi any more. She made an absolutely beautiful bride. But, as Naomi stared at herself in the full-length mirror, her tears fell.
“Oh, Claire,” Naomi whispered, “I’m not miserable, it’s just… I just wish my parents were here for my wedding. I wish my mom could see me in my wedding dress – it’s almost an exact replica of hers.”
Claire held her close, as she cried.
“My dad was supposed to walk me down the aisle, too; he should be giving me away…”
Continuing to hold her, Claire whispered in a choked voice. “I believe your parents will be here, Naomi, on your wedding day: they’ll be watching over you. They never really leave as long as you’re thinking about them.”
Naomi looked up, grateful to know that Claire understood so clearly what she needed to hear. Claire grabbed fistfuls of tissues and pressed them into her friend’s hands.
“Now come on,” she said, looking Naomi in the eyes and smiling, “dry your eyes. This is your special time – and you don’t want mascara on that gorgeous dress!”
A hug and a take-away coffee later, Naomi was bubbling over again – and was glowing by the time they got back to the ranch.
And now, as the icing on the wedding cake, they could see as their car pulled in that Naomi’s school friend Susan, her other bridesmaid, had arrived from Harare. As Naomi stepped out Susan flew towards her, all smiles and nostalgia. Claire was glad that Naomi was distracted by the arrival of her old friend for a few hours – but later she joined the two of them as
they gossiped, preened and pampered themselves in readiness for tomorrow.
Naomi got her wish. The day of the wedding was perfect. The setting was stunning, the weather glorious, and she looked like an angel. Claire smiled and laughed, all the while hiding her discomfort. What had begun as sickness and an excruciating headache she now knew to be something more – but on top of that, she felt certain something must be about to happen to break the joy of the occasion. Things just can’t be so different but still seem just the same, can they? She asked herself. But the day passed by in a blur of noises and people. Sitting quietly, Claire allowed herself to watch Seth, who was the master of ceremonies and Tony’s best man. While he entertained the guests, Claire let her eyes memorise his every detail. Memories, she knew, were soon all she would have of him. He looked magnificent in his tuxedo, dashing and handsome.
The reception on the lawns of Impunzi was festive: Tony hadn’t stopped smiling – and his mother, Claire was glad to see, was both on her feet and beaming from ear to ear. Naomi flitted from place to place, her face radiant and her happiness tangible. The celebration was to go on into the early hours of the morning, but Claire excused herself, pleading tiredness, at midnight. She breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the lodge door. Tomorrow, she knew, she would call the airline and get her departure date brought forward.
Chapter Sixteen
For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, as if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked … so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.
(2 Corinthians 5:1-4)
Claire’s eyes snapped open: there was someone pounding on her door. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it must be just before dawn. Pushing her hair from her face, she stumbled to the door. Seth stood there, big and menacing to her sleep-befuddled mind. Claire put out her hand to close her door on him. He’s drunk. He’d only come if he were drunk, she told herself. But Seth halted her in a calm, gentle voice.
“Claire, your aunt’s neighbor – Mrs Reilly? – is on the phone. You need to come and talk to her.”
Claire stared at Seth blankly in confusion, and didn’t move.
“Claire, you need to come,” Seth repeated. He put his hand on her arm. “She says… your aunt’s had a stroke.”
Claire sagged against the door in shock. Thinking she might collapse, Seth held her tightly by her upper arms. He continued, compassion in his voice.
“Claire, she’s holding on to speak to you. Come on; I’ll take you to the house.”
Old Mrs Reilly was hysterical. She related in broken, rambling sentences how Aunt Ellen had not appeared for their usual bridge game – how she had gone over to Ellen’s house, feeling only irritation, to see what had happened. Luckily, she’d found the prostrate woman not long after she had collapsed. Claire almost collapsed too, as Mrs Reilly confirmed what Seth had told her, and what the hospital had related: that her aunt was alive, but had had a stroke. She was now in hospital and was asking for Claire.
Promising to get the first flight back, Claire replaced the receiver and let her tears flow. Why, oh why, was everything going wrong at once? Again, after so short a period of relief?
Seth pushed some tissues into Claire’s shaking hands, but avoided her eyes. He lifted the phone again and, without speaking to her, started to dial. He spoke calmly but forcefully to the stubborn clerk who answered the line for airport reservations in Bulawayo. Claire wasn’t listening, through her sobs, to what he was saying, but finally Seth slammed down the receiver and took Claire firmly by her shoulders. For the first time, he looked at her directly.
He spoke to her clearly, as if explaining to a child. “Claire, you’re on the four o’clock flight this afternoon. We don’t have much time; you must go and pack. I’ll let Naomi know what’s happened and pick you up after I’ve filled the BMW with petrol. Okay?”
Nodding dazedly, Claire turned and walked from the room. Clinging to the mundane in her shock, she quickly changed out of her pyjamas, scraped back her hair and packed, placing her sketches between her clothes. She was frantically stuffing her toiletries into her wash bag when Seth arrived with Naomi and Tony.
As she placed Claire’s luggage in the boot, Naomi had tears in her eyes. She hugged Claire with a fierce intensity, promised to visit and implored Claire to keep in touch. Tony, too, held her tightly for a moment before passing her a basket that he and Naomi had hurriedly packed with chicken sandwiches and a thermos of tea. Having bundled mutely into the car, Seth and Claire sped through the thinning darkness. The sun was rising over the landscape now, but its beauty was completely lost to Claire. Aware of the eight-hour journey ahead of them, which he and Claire had so freely broken with picnics and chatter in the other direction, Seth pressed Claire to drink some tea. Claire, feeling sick to her stomach with shock, fear, exhaustion and she alone knew what more, could barely open her mouth to sip it – and then, not long afterwards, she felt nausea broil in her stomach. Desperately, she grabbed Seth’s forearm and begged him urgently to stop. Looking at Claire in confusion, Seth saw her pale face and brought the car to a screeching halt. Claire flung open the door and stumbled to the grass verge to be violently ill. Seth stood next to her, puzzled and concerned as he held out some damp tissues. Claire wiped her mouth and rinsed it with some water, fumbling in her bag for chewing gum. Firmly, she assured Seth that she was fine other than in her distress, and slid back into the car. The rest of the journey passed in a haze. Claire dozed lightly for the next couple of hours, eventually forcing herself awake after realising how often Seth was glancing with concern over at her. Claire stared ahead, silently praying for her aunt. She remembered stopping once to fill up with petrol. Later, at imploring words from Seth, she managed to eat two sandwiches and drink some more of the cooling tea. Then they were on the road again, racing through the now-fading sunshine to the airport terminal.
Parking in the short-stay bay, Seth loaded Claire’s luggage onto a trolley and they hurried inside. The lady behind the counter checked Claire’s ticket and passport, and told them that the flight would be called shortly. Now with nothing to do but wait, Claire felt dizzy. In the panic after the phone call, it had not penetrated her mind that she would be leaving Zimbabwe, leaving Seth, so immediately. She would probably never see him again. Sitting with him, sipping a cup of tea, her eyes met Seth’s and clung for endless seconds. They were alone amidst the hubbub of airport activity. There was so much that needed to be said. Claire opened her mouth – but a voice over the intercom crackled into the moment, calling her away to board.
Seth found it difficult to stand. For the last day he’d been acting on autopilot, doing what was necessary – but he suddenly felt as if a vital part of him was being ripped out.
Dropping her handbag, Claire reached up. Cupping Seth’s face tenderly in her hands, she rose up onto her toes and kissed him. Their lips fused and clung for a second – as though forever – and then she was walking quickly away from him.
Seth stood, watching her go. People bumped into him, and looked back at him, annoyed. He watched as the security gates closed. He watched as the aeroplane taxied up the runway. He watched as it took off, taking Claire from him. Lifting his hands, he brushed them over his cheeks. They were wet. Wiping his palms on his trousers, Seth swung around and left the terminal. Despite all his efforts to keep his distance, Claire had come too close to him. She already meant too much. Reaching his car, Seth imagined the empty drive back to Impunzi alone, and what he felt would be the overbearing happiness of the newly-weds waiting at its end. On impulse, Seth booked a room at the Bulawayo Sun Hotel and ordered a bottle of brandy. He tried to drive from him the last feel of her lips. The image of her walking away from him. Twenty-four hours ago he’d been avoiding her, resenting her – wishing her gone. Now, in a heartbeat, she was gone. Seth drank until his mind’s eye was a
s blind to Claire as he had been.
TAP Airliner, Flight DUB-8096
Claire’s flights passed in a blur. Several hours after re-boarding in Zurich, she started to come back to herself. Claire was shocked to find what she’d been thinking about was not her aunt – no matter how worried she was about her, or how anxious she was to get to her side – but that Seth was gone from her life. She remembered him saying that she should come back to Impunzi, when things were sorted out. Impunzi, the home of the man she’d loved. No: she would not be going back. She had survived one encounter with Seth; she could not imagine herself strong enough to survive another. The emergency had simply hidden the fact that she’d resolved already to leave, and hurried her departure. Claire fell into a restless sleep, but frightening dreams plagued her mind. Waking in a cold sweat, Claire dashed from her seat and was again horribly ill. Taking deep breaths, she asked the hostess for some strong tea and, putting on her headphones, listened to the tinny sounds of the airline radio to block everything from her mind. Willing the hours to pass, Claire wished that Dolly were on the flight. Dolly knew how to distract a person. She told herself she wished anyone could be with her… without admitting how much she wanted it to be Seth by her side. Claire was a mass of nerves by the time the aeroplane landed in Dublin.
Catching a taxi, Claire decided to drop off her luggage at home first. It was only once there did she realise she hadn’t had the chance to shower or sleep properly for over forty-eight hours. Claire dragged herself into the bathroom to wash and pulled on clean clothes from her room. They smell like home, she thought, her breath catching in her throat. The scent of her aunt’s fresh washing reminded her in a flash of being a child, of being able to run away and have others just make things better. She felt an almost physical pull to climb into bed, cover her head and shut out the world. But no-one could look after her now, Claire knew. She was going to be the one in charge. From now on, she would be the one Aunt Ellen could count on. No more whining and pining over Seth: he and Impunzi were gone – in the past. This was her future now. Using her last shreds of energy to pull her fractured emotions together, Claire decided to look forward from this moment on. She had her writing, Aunt Ellen and Kacey, and… and that would have to be enough.
Claire's Prayer Page 21